


Together Or Not At All

by AldreaAlien



Series: Daylen Amell [8]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 21:20:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2788145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AldreaAlien/pseuds/AldreaAlien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I literally wrote this in one afternoon, but unless a particular someone finds a way to cleanse Grey Wardens of the taint in the next decade, this is how I picture Daylen's Calling going down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Together Or Not At All

_This is it_ . Daylen stared at the tunnel entrance. To look at, it was nothing spectacular. A harmless little cave, maybe harbouring a bear at the most. His senses told him different. "So, what do you think?" he enquired of his sole companion.

Zevran glanced up from his task of re-stringing his bow and sneered at the tunnel. "That it's a hole?" One brow twitched upwards. "Darkspawn-infested I presume."

He nodded. Not as many as they'd battled through to reach the Archdemon almost two decades ago, but a great number nevertheless. He hoped it would be enough.

"Wonder of wonders." Zevran slung his quiver back over his shoulder and adjusted his armour. "Shall we, then? As dim-witted as the darkspawn are, they are not going to slay themselves."

Daylen laid a hand upon the assassin's shoulder. "This is where we part ways." After so long in each other's company, he already felt the hollow ache of loneliness eating its way into his gut. _And he hasn't even left, yet_. Or perhaps this feeling was just another symptom of the Calling that no one had told him about. "Go to Amaranthine, tell them—"

Zevran chuckled. "Tsk. Nineteen years together and, still, he misjudges me." He smiled up at him. "No matter how many darkspawn lie ahead, we shall be victorious."

"Well, we _are_ ridiculously awesome," he agreed, the observation earning him a hearty laugh from his lover. He was going to miss that sound. _But not for long_. If luck was kind to him, he would be cut down pretty quickly. It wasn't as if he wore much in the way of armour. He'd never needed to. "All joking aside, Zev, this isn't your path."

Strong, nimble fingers grasped his shoulders. Those honey-coloured eyes he adored for years now glared up at him, brimming with determination. " _Mi amor_ , we go down there together or not at all."

He squeezed his eyes shut, but it was no use, the bloody man had already won. _Damn it_. Oh, he'd profess innocence, and make a damn good case about it too, but Daylen had long ago come to accept that the assassin had him pretty much wrapped around his little finger. "Fine," he blurted, "and when I d—" He all but choked in trying to speak the word. He couldn't say it, not to _him_. "You'll leave?"

Silence greeted his question. Had Zevran finally decided it would be better if he left now?

Daylen opened his eyes to find the man still standing before him, albeit the final traces of humour had fled his lover's face. He didn't blame him, just like he had endured the elf's rage upon divulging the fate of the senior Grey Wardens. They both knew what would come to pass once they entered the Deep Roads.

He couldn't stand the thought of Zevran trapped in the Deep Roads with only the darkspawn to end his suffering. That image had haunted his dreams for a good many years now. He didn't want it to happen, he'd do _anything_ to keep the elf from such a fate.

Finally, Zevran averted his gaze with a sigh. "If that is your wish, then I shall." He fiddled with his straps, needlessly readjusting them. "Let's go."

 _Yes, let's_. With dark thoughts weighing so heavily upon his mind, filling whatever piece of him that wasn't overtaken by the dreadful singing, Daylen entered the innocuous tunnel opening. His death awaited him down there, lurking in the shadows and leering with their demented grins. _They'll drag him down with me_. If there was ever a time Daylen resented ever falling for that stubborn, sexy elf, then this was it.

And, Maker damn him, he'd rip the world apart before letting a single one of those bastards take Zevran. Taint or no. Not whilst he still lived.

 

***

 

Zevran stumbled as he stood from placing the very last mine he'd packed. How long had they been down here? It felt like months. Couldn't have been more than a week. A week of being badgered and corralled by darkspawn with the only person he'd trust to watch his back slipping further and further away.

He massaged one side of his neck, absentmindedly tracing the leather cord down to the small, glowing vial hanging on the end; Daylen's phylactery. Reclaimed by its owner in the chaos following the Archdemon's death and given to Zevran before he left for Antiva. Once, it'd been a cherished reminder of the life, and love, that waited for him back in Fereldan. But now?

His gaze turned to the man-shaped creature shuffling ahead of him. At times, he swore there was a shred of the person he loved looking back. _Not enough_. Daylen, the Daylen _he_ knew, was gone. Stolen by the taint.

He slid a small dagger from its sheath. It was a wicked thing, designed to kill quickly with the slightest cut. He had kept this weapon close ever since Daylen first revealed the truth behind the ritual, the reality of how his dear Warden was to die. He'd been so angry back then. Angry at the man who'd tainted his beloved, angry at Daylen for keeping it a secret all these years and, most of all, angry at himself for understanding why his lover had done so.

Now, here he was, just as determined to not let it be true as Daylen had been to keep him safe.

As silent as the surrounding rock, he crept closer to the ... _thing_ wearing Daylen's body like ill-fitting armour. "Forgive me, _amor_ ," he breathed, his lips brushing against the cool metal of the earring he'd gifted the mage so long ago. The dagger found little in the way of resistance as it tore the once fine robes and buried itself into flesh.

Daylen convulsed in his arms, his legs giving way and swiftly dumping them onto the ground. Magic swirled about them for a brief moment as instinct tried to heal the damage, to purge the poison coating the blade. Zevran watched the sparks of light with a bitter smile. He'd been ready for such a response. The magic would only feed the toxins.

"Z..." Air rushed out the already paling lips, teasing him with a voice he knew didn't speak. There was nothing left of the man within to recognise him, much less utter his name.

A hand fastened onto Zevran's leather tunic — the outfit yet another gift, to protect his heart when magic could not — dragging him closer. The trembling wracking Daylen's body grew all the more evident.

"Zev..." Sweat drenched his pallid face, but the dark eyes staring up at him were very much clear. He should've been dead by now. Perhaps the magic had taken the edge off the poison. Or the taint had an unexpected effect on it.

With a tendril of hope wrapping about his heart, Zevran risked a hesitant, " _Si_?"

"The 'spawn..." Daylen swallowed. "They're coming..." That strange swirling, red spell his deadly mage always preferred to use in battle sparked to life and died. "I can't..."

"Hush." Zevran laid a finger upon his lover's lips. "It is time for you to rest." He'd already heard the darkspawn drawing nearer. It didn't matter. This was one Grey Warden they wouldn't get the pleasure of killing.

"But you—" Another convulsion took him, arching his back. His eyes rolled up until only the whites were left. His lips pulled back, turning his usual charming smile into a grin that matched the surrounding 'spawn. Blood stained his teeth and dribbled out his mouth.

Then, through a time that felt like eternity, Daylen grew still.

"I will see you soon, _mi amor_." Maybe his dear Warden believed he could make it out of here alive, but Zevran was under no such delusions. There were too many darkspawn between him and the entrance for him to defeat alone. Maybe they'd have a chance if Daylen still lived, but no, his death was the whole point of coming here.

He slipped the dagger from the corpse. Would it not be better to die here, taken swiftly and at his lover's side, than brutally cut down by these monsters? _It would still hurt_. What was a little pain? Without any innate healing magic, the poison would take hold far quicker.

 _You're over thinking this_. Taking a deep breath, he drew the blade down his wrist and collapsed almost instantly onto Daylen's body. His limbs jerked uncontrollably, shuffling him into such an angle to see down the tunnel ahead.

Through the tears and the dust all but blinding him, his gaze managed to focus on the approaching boots of the darkspawn. _The wires_...  These creatures would get nothing, no weapons, no armour, not even a single shred of flesh. He struggled to search for the traps he'd laid, but his body refused to obey him. _Where_... They should be close enough to tri—

 

***

 

A massive boom rattled the earth, flinging unsuspecting darkspawn in all directions. Fire flared across the cavern, gulfing the two inert figures who had dared to venture so deep beneath the surface.

It took hours for the smoke to finally clear. Little remained. A few half-melted blades and bits of expensive armour decorated the ground where the duo had fallen. And there, nestled atop a pile of ashes, with what looked to be the melted remnants of a golden hoop embedded into its side, sat a small glass vial; its contents dim after all these years. 


End file.
